


Static

by Bubonicc



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Drift with split personalities, Future nsfw, Head trauma, Healing, Injury Recovery, M/M, Medical Procedures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 10:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6002635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubonicc/pseuds/Bubonicc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Drift suffers terrible wounds from a blast, Perceptor and Ratchet work night and day to rebuild him, all seems well until Drift starts to act strange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stasis Lock

It had all happened so quickly, and nobody had seemed to understand the gravity of the situation until it was far too late. Everybody was yelling, charging forwards, weapons drawn.

        He couldn't recall much, as there wasn't really much to recall of what happened. What he could remember though was Ratchet by his side, blasters drawn as they charged together into the fight. What was the fight about? He couldn't remember, his processor was so foggy, it was difficult enough just recalling the familiar colors of Ratchet’s paint job. Even then the memory was glossy, Ratchet's voice muffled as he yelled. He was saying something, to him, to Drift but he couldn't tell what it was. He could see his lips moving and managed to make out a few words of what Ratchet had said before the two of them charged into battle.

        Blades drawn, Drift dragged the tip along the ground like he always did, kicking up sparks as he sliced- what did he attack? Can't remember. What happened?

        He remembered rubble raining down on them as an explosion upturned the ground near them. He remembered feeling the push of the pulse wave from the blast that knocked him slightly off balance, but he was right back at it.

        It wasn't until a few moments later that a bright white light stung Drift’s optics and he tried to shield them from it. The last thing he had seen was Ratchet doing the same thing before a powerful wave of heat punched his frame and he was thrown back.

        He wasn't sure how long he had been in the air or how far he had been thrown but the landing on the ground was anything but gentle. He came down hard on his front, rolling and skidding to a hard stop on his side. At some point his optics had been knocked offline and he found himself struggling to get them back online. In fact one completely refused to online while warning and errors flashed across his HUD for medical attention as soon as possible.  

        One optic clicked back online, running at a sad 8% and failing. It flickered, static popping all along his vision as the feed glitched and changed colors. It took a great deal of effort to keep it online long enough to see a blotchy figure running in his direction. He couldn't tell who it was but something else caught his eye quickly.

        It took a moment for him to recognize what it was, what this twisted up piece of mangled metal was. His right arm, or what was left of it as the plating was shredded to bits and his protoform was damaged. Sparks flew from the damaged joint as he commanded it to move, but it didn't, in fact when he tried to move his entire body, it refused and he remained on his side. It was odd, as he wasn't in any kind of pain at all, but yet he felt himself fading.

        His optic flickered offline, the blotch in the distance still making its way over to him. He struggled with himself to get it back online, and he didn't know how long it had taken him but when it onlined again he could see a very familiar white face.

        Ratchet was over him, his face flooded with panic and covered in speckles of energon. He was screaming, or at least that is what Drift thought he was doing as he could see his mouth moving but he heard nothing but a dull ringing in his audio. No matter how many times he tried to reset it, he still couldn't hear Ratchet. He had noticed that he wasn't on his side anymore, but propped up in Ratchet’s lap, his head by Ratchet’s stomach. Ratchet was holding him, shielding him from another blast that rained bits of dirt over them.

        Drift opened his mouth, wanting to tell Ratchet he was okay, but nothing came out. His lips parted and a loud gurgle erupted from his mouth as energon that had gathered in his intake bubbled out and he coughed when it choked him.

        _Fear_.

        It flooded his frame, or what was left of it he wasn't too sure at the time as he felt and saw nothing. The panic only making him lose his focus on keeping his barely functioning optic online. He blinked rapidly, watching Ratchet shouting to the side, maybe at others. He had never seen Ratchet look so scared in all his life. It chilled his fluttering spark, and before he got a chance to try and cry out to him again, the corners of his vision started to swell in on him. No matter how many times he tried to refuse shutdown, it washed over him and dragged him under.

        Optic flickering offline, Drift’s frame sagged in Ratchet’s arms.

 

* * *

 

Weightless, as he was just floating in what he thought was a black empty nothingness. Both of his optics opened this time, but he saw nothing but an endless voice. Where was he? Was this the well of All Sparks? Had he died, right there in Ratchet’s arms? Was this really what it was going to be like when one passed on, just floating around forever?

        Something was tickling his finials, something that sounded like several people whispering all together at once. It was eerie and no matter which way he looked he couldn't see anybody but himself. Yet where were these whispers coming from?

        Drift tried to move, but his frame just rotated a bit in the empty space. He tried to adapt to it, getting his frame up right and just hovering wherever he was.

        "What is this?" His voice echoed and the whispers suddenly seemed to amplify louder and louder in his audio until he covered the sides of his head and curled in on himself.

        "Stop-" His head jerked to the side, "stop it!"

        _Drift._

        He looked up, hands still on his head as he tried to see who called his name.

        _Drift! Drift! Drift!_

"Stop! Stop it! What is this, what is happening to me?!" He screamed, throwing his head back in time to see a large menacing shadow looming over him. Deep red eyes glared daggers down at him and he had never felt so small. It had an oddly familiar shape, in fast he could have sworn it looked like a huge shadow of himself, but he was too afraid to really make sense of what was happening, if any of it was even real.

        _Drift._

        Long fingers reached out to him, coiling around his frantically kicking legs as he struggled to get away from it, but where would he go? It seemed he was stuck in whatever kind of purgatory this was, being haunted by whatever this thing was that kept chanting his name.

        Its fingers wrapped themselves up all the way around his neck and squeezed, choking him until he was gasping for air.

        "S-Stop!" He grabbed at his throat but there was nothing to grab, as the shadow had no physical body to grab. It was going to kill him, it was going to kill him and he feared he would wake right back up here and it would do it again and again and again.

        The shadow’s eyes flickered, its mouth pulling apart to reveal long rows of jagged teeth. It snarled only once before lunching down at Drift with its mouth open.

"AH!" Drift lurched up from the medical berth, his hands clawing at his neck. He flailed his arms, his optic stinging as the sudden flood of light into his optic sent a searing pain through his head.

        "Drift!"

        "No!"

        "Drift! Stop it!"

        Drift’s failing slowed and he lowered his arms, his optics peeking open. He had to blink a few times as his vision field was terribly blurry and he could just barely make out Ratchet’s shape. He could feel two strong hands pressing on his chestplate, easing him back down to rest.

        "Ratchet?"

        "Thank Primus you're awake." Ratchet rubbed Drift’s chest and sat down next to Drift’s berth side. He looked terribly exhausted and worried. "Are you alright? I'm so relieved you're finally awake."

        "Yeah... just had a nightmare... I think." Taking in a deep breath, Drift let his head fall back on the fluffy pillow and let his optics dim. "What do you mean finally awake? I was just knocked on my aft. No big deal. I have had worse, right?" A small horse laugh and Drift watched Ratchet shake his head.

        "No, Drift-" He started, taking Drift’s hand and holding it close. "You haven't been out for a few hours, or a day, you have been in a coma for weeks." He paused, seeing Drift’s optics rotate as he tried to process the information. "When the bomb went off, you were caught in the blast field and suffered massive trauma. Most of the damage was focused to the right side of your body, which included a part of your head. Your brain module was severally damaged and I was afraid I wasn't going to be able to bring you back this time." He squeezed Drift’s hand. "Perceptor and I have been working for days to help rebuild and repair you. You have been in and out of surgery for days. We finally finished but you still hadn't woken up and we feared the damage had been too extensive."

        Drift was quiet a moment, his free hand slowly sliding up to his face and up to his right finial which was heavily wrapped in bandages.

        Vents opening, Drift felt his tank turn and a sudden terror wash over him. He felt sick, and wasn't sure why, what was happening, why was he so nervous all of a sudden?

        "Drift." Ratchet squeezed his hand again. "You're alright. You're awake... it means we did it. You're going to be alright. You just need rest; I will admit I wasn't expecting you to wake up so soon after a surgery as I just finished putting your arm back together. I guess it doesn't really matter, as long as you are here and talking, everything is alright."

        "I... I feel okay though. I mean I don't feel like I am in any pain." He kept touching the bandage on his head.

        "Heh. That's because I have you on the _good stuff_." Lifting Drift’s hand a little higher for him to see the IV sticking out of it, he smirked. "I broke it out just for you." Ratchet watched Drift smile and even let out a small laugh as well. "Don't tell any of the other patients I have you on this, they might get a little jealous." Ratchet winked and stood up and left Drift’s berth side for a moment to return with a class of energon. There was a small lid on the cup with a long straw. "Drink. I know it's going to taste like hell but medical grade is all you're allowed until the end of the day then you can do back to low grade energon. I don't want you overloading your system too quickly; you really do need to focus on resting. Your wounds are still critical and I don't want to have to strap you down to this bed for the next month if you can't just sit and relax. Think you can manage that?" He pushed the straw close to Drift’s dry lips, watching him lean forward and latch onto the straw to suck up the energon. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was until he sucked all the fluid up and kept sucking or more and even almost whined when Ratchet pulled the cup away.  

        "I understand." Drift sighed, hunkering down, his frame heavy with sleep and his head pounding a little bit from all the moving. "Is Percy around? I want to see him, does he know I'm awake? Is he okay? He wasn't hurt was he? Wait, sorry I didn't even ask if you were alright. You were right next to me when-" Drift squinted one optic as his head throbbed and he reached up to hold onto his right finial to try and sooth the pain.

        "Percy is fine. He wasn't anywhere near the blast when it happened. Neither was I, seems you took the brunt of it but even a missile cannot knock your stubborn aft out for good. You're one mean son of a glitch." Pulling the blankets up over Drift, Ratchet tucked him in. "I will tell Perceptor you're awake. I'm sure he will come down as soon as he can to see you but you need to rest now, alright? I'll be right around the corner of you need me." He watched Drift nod, and with a gentle pet of his undamaged finial, Ratchet left the room and went to the front desk where he pinged Perceptor that Drift was finally awake.

Something warm touches Drift’s cheek and he stirs from his light nap, yawning and blinking his optics open. He smiled instantly, seeing that warm sweet smile that always seemed to be on Perceptor’s face.

        "Hey." Perceptor’s voice was gentle as he continued to stroke Drift’s cheek. "It's good to see you." He sat on the edge of the berth, cupping Drift’s cheek with his hand and smiling when Drift dropped his finials in the way he always did when Perceptor pet him. He loved it when Drift did that, thinking it was adorable and he was happy that even in Drift’s condition, he did it. "How are you feeling?"

        "Okay, I guess. As okay I am can be when I am told I took a three week long nap." He shrugged, not really sure what to say as he felt like the whole thing had just happened the day before. Except he really couldn't recall much of what had happened or why it had all happened. He supposed though all that really mattered was that he was alive and back with Percy who was visibly delighted he was up.  "I really want to get out of here though. I feel like I missed out on a lot and just want to get back into the swing of things as soon as possible. I don't know if Ratchet will let me out of there yet though."

        "Ratchet will allow you to leave with me if we go right to your hab."

        "No reroutes to Swerve’s?"

        "No." Perceptor smirked.

        "Not even for one drink."

        "No."

        "Just one." Giving his best puppy eyes, Drift couldn't hold it for long as Perceptor would always beat him with that deadpan face. "Fine." He tried to act disappointed, even crossed his arms but when Percy chuckled he knew his acting skills hadn't improved while in his mini-coma, it was worth a shot at least.

        "Come on, I'm going to help you stand." Pulling the covers off of Drift’s legs, Perceptor helped Drift get his arm over his head and carefully got him to his feet. Perceptor was ready to catch Drift when his legs gave out from under him, as inner workings had grown weak from his time laying flat. "Easy, easy, take your time." He had no problem supporting Drift, as he was a bit skinnier now from his all medical grade diet.

        "I got it. I got it." Drift balanced himself and leaned on Perceptor for support, each step taking him a few seconds. He would have really liked to have stretched but he wasn't sure he would have the energy to do so, nor did he want to damage any of the healing plating all around his body. Not because he would have to wait for it to re-heal but because he didn't want to hear Ratchet yelling at him.

        The walk to the hab was painfully slow but Perceptor was patient with him, far more patient than anybody else would have been with him. When Drift needed to stop a moment to catch his breath, Perceptor would stop and let him lean his full weight on him until he was ready to start moving again.

        "Percy," Drift panted, taking step after step.

        "Yes, Drift?" The scientist looked at the samurai, listening closely.

        "Thanks for patching me up. I should have thanked Ratchet back there but I fell asleep. He looked tired, and you look tired. You two really worked hard to bring me back, didn't you?" They were close now, as Drift could see the door to his hab. "I just really appreciate what you did for me, you know?"

        "Drift, I would have gone to the edge of the universe and back to have helped you." They stopped at his door and Perceptor input Drift’s door code. "When Ratchet came running with you, we had all thought the worse, but there was hope. It was small but it was there and that was all that we needed." Pulling Drift into his hab, Perceptor let Drift slide off his shoulder and let him sit on his berth.

        Sitting down next to Drift, Perceptor sighed and looked at him, smiling. He leaned towards Drift, bumping their foreheads together but being cautious to Drift’s head bandage.  Their noses grazed momentarily before Perceptor was the first to pull away and press a hand to Drift’s chest.

        "You need to lie down and rest. Ratchet will be cross with me if I keep you up late." He pushed Drift until he was lying down.

        "I have had three weeks of rest, I want to stay awake and just-" He paused, "just be here with you."

        "I am here. I am not going anywhere." Tugging the blanket up Drift’s frame, Perceptor tucked him in and very gently stroked Drift’s head. "I'll stay until you sleep, but you actually have to try and sleep."

        "I will." Voice already groggy, Drift’s optics grew heavy and he fell asleep to the lull of Perceptor’s pets.

 

* * *

 

Drift opened his optics; spark throbbing as he found himself back in the black void nightmare. Again, he was floating around, though this time he had enough sense to get himself upright faster and whirl around in all directions. Still nothing, that was until the loud ringing in his audio retuned and he was howling in agony as it tore his audio apart.

        It sent a searing pain through his head, and his frame jerked in random directions as he tried to escape it. There was no way out, nowhere to go, and it only increased in volume.

        _Drift!_

        The creature made from shadow wasted no time coiling itself around Drift’s frame again, strangling him like a snake suffocating a rabbit; it gave him no room to move or struggle. All he could do was scream and hope somebody would hear him, hope somebody would wake him. He prayed Perceptor was still next to him and could hear him screaming and would take him awake, but the shadow creature just kept curling around him.

        What little he could see started to fade as he felt faint. The last thing he thought he had seen was his own face, but a face long forgotten. Or so he thought, as the creature choking him was making his optics blotch out colors until finally... lights out.


	2. Pressure

Drift jerked up, mouth open to take in a heaving gasp as if he had been suffocating. He grabbed at his chest, panting and looking around, disoriented. He was safe in his hab like he had thought. Nobody was looming over him choking him in his sleep; he was alone in his messy hab.  

He had soaked his sheets in coolant, his frame drenched as at some point during the night he must have broke out into a cold sweat. He could still feel thick beads of coolant rolling down the side of his face as he pushed the covers off himself and swung his legs over the edge of the berth.

He hunched over, holding his head as he could feel every cable and line throbbing inside of it. His finials felt hot and they throbbed as well, no ease of pain coming when he tried to rub them. There was a painful pressure behind his optics, feeling like they would pop from the sockets if he moved his head too fast. He could hear a dull ringing, which only grew slightly louder when he gave his finial a squeeze. On top of his throbbing head, his frame felt stiff and achy. His shoulders and hips creaked as he tried to stand himself up, finding it actually painful to properly stand. Perhaps splashing some cool water on his face would help him feel better. It should help cool his hot cheeks plus cleaning the coolant off his face would also have been nice as he felt sticky and gross, maybe even later he would treat himself to a warm shower or bath. He thought maybe he should ask Ratchet for some special solvents to help relax his frame as he felt as tight as a drum.

Slowly, Drift trudged his way to his personal washroom and headed for the sink first. He felt dizzy and his tank turned and for a moment he thought he was going to purge. As soon as he grabbed the edges of the sink, he waited. It took him a few minutes for his frame to settle his fluttering tank, and even after a while he dry heaved, expecting to purge but his tank was empty. His frame had been given nothing but medical grade, which was designed to burn faster to progress healing, leaving him too low to really bring anything up. Instead he just spit into the sink and turned the faucet on to fill it. It filled quickly, and he dipped his servos into it to test the coolness, happy with it as it even felt nice just on his servo tips.

As Drift was about to scoop up some water and toss it at his face, his finials throbbed painfully. A sudden jerk of his head to one side and Drift bared his denta. The ringing in his audio increased in volume and he snarled, head ticking hard the other way now. The sink started to crack under his servos as his grip tightened. His head jerked back, a loud violent snarl escaping him as his fangs protruded outward. His optics flickered on and off and finally he felt his knees give way to his weight.

Down he went, still holding the sink but kneeling in front of it with his forehead pressed against the cool surface of it. The jerking of his head had stopped, and he just kneeled there, trying to catch his breath. He wheezed a bit, trying to get back on his feet but finding it extremely difficult as his knees wobbled. Was all of this because he was still recovering? Ratchet had told him to rest, and he sure he was but maybe he had been a lot more injured than he had first thought. Even as he had come out of stasis lock he didn't feel like he had been out for so long.

There was a faint wrapping on Drift’s hab door and a raspy voice that could only be from a particular medic on the ship.

"Drift? Are you awake?" Ratchet knocked again, waiting patiently out in the hall for Drift to come to the door. He had been confident enough after seeing Drift get up and leave earlier with Perceptor that he was at least strong enough to have some bit of movement. He had hoped that the next day Drift would even show more progress towards a full recovery but it was best to let Drift take his time. Admittedly Ratchet was a little worried about how fast Drift had come around.

Drift had to will himself to his feet, not sure at first if he had the strength to do so but he knew if he took too long Ratchet would override his door lock and come in on his own. It wouldn't be very good for him. Ratchet would find him on his knees in the washroom, so for the sake of not freaking Ratchet out he got himself up. He trudged to the door, leaning on the wall to help support his weak frame.

The door slid open and Drift was met with at first Ratchet’s cool calm face, which changed to sudden worry when he saw how pale Drift was. Coolant was still speckled all over his frame and his cheeks had a slight fever tint to them.

"Are you alright?" Ratchet stepped forwards and pushed them both into Drift’s hab so they could speak privately. "You're as white as a sheet." Ratchet set the back of his hand on Drift’s forehead, taking a moment to calculate his core temp before squeezing Drift’s cheeks.  He found it off Drift didn't pull away like he usually would when Ratchet did things like this, instead Drift stood obediently and waited for him to finish. "You're a little warm and soaking wet. What happened? Why didn't you come to me?"

"I.... uh-" It seemed a bit embarrassing for him to admit he had a nightmare and it just did a number on him but Ratchet would pry if he didn't say something, "Just had a nightmare was all. Just, took the wind out of me." It did more than that, at points he could hear the ringing in his audio pick up or the pulsing behind his optics increase, he didn't want to bother Ratchet with a trivial thing like a headache, he was no doubt worried enough.

"Do you want to talk about it? Do you remember anything that happened in it?" This was maybe more of Rung’s type of thing, but at least Ratchet was willing to listen if Drift wanted to talk.

Drift was hesitant, his optics dimming as he tried to recall anything at all, instead he felt his intake swell and he made an attempt to clear it and swallow. He rubbed his chest, shaking his head.

"I... no- I don't remember anything. I just woke up spooked, you know? I have been out of it so long I guess it's just going to take me a while to get back on my feet." He shrugged, seeing Ratchet looking him over carefully before letting the issue slide.

"Well, how about you and I go grab something to eat, hmm? I figured you must be hungry and probably want something with a little more taste than medical grade." Now that Ratchet mentioned it, he was starving. He tried to remember if he had even eaten anything when Perceptor was with him but couldn't recall anything at all. His tank was empty and growled at the mentions of a refueling.

"Yeah, I am. I would like that." Drift made an attempt at a smile as Ratchet side stepped and walked out of his hab with him, watching him like a hawk and noting his sluggish movement. He had summed it up to Drift having been stuck lying in the same position the entire time he was in stasis lock, even under Ratchet’s best care his joints no doubt still tensed up.

Drift kept himself hunkered down in the booth Ratchet had selected for him at Swerve’s. He had chosen a spot in the back to keep others from crowding Drift, not that the bar was full during the middle of the day but still he wanted Drift to have as little stress as possible.

While Drift waited for Ratchet to come back from the bar, Drift rubbed the weld on the side of his head through the mesh patch Ratchet had placed some time ago. Each time he touched it, his head would throb and his finials would drop a little lower. He hadn't thought that maybe his headache had been caused by him sleeping on the side with the weld, tonight he would have to be more careful.

"Stop touching that." Returning with two small bowls of congealed energon, the color suggested they were medium grade. Drift figured Ratchet was worried his tank couldn't handle high grade yet, and honestly he had been thankful because he didn't think it could either.

It was odd, as he looked down at the food, a sharp zing of pleasure shot through his head, making one of his optics squint. He could hear Ratchet talking in front of him, could even see his mouth moving, but he couldn't understand a word of what he was saying.

Drift’s optics flickered and his head ticked to one side, trembling a bit before his hand rose up from under the table and he started to grab at the energon. One large gulp after another, Drift wolfed it down in an animal-like fashion.

Ratchet stopped talking now, just watching Drift grab and stuff himself with the energon at an alarming rate. This isn't like him; the look on his face even seemed different.

"You really must have been hungry." Ratchet set his energon down and reached over to Drift. "Slow down, you're going to make yourself sick if you keep eating like-" Drift snagged Ratchet’s hand as it was midway across the table, pinning it and snarling. His fangs glisten when he showed them to Ratchet, almost like some sort of warning, except just as fast as all of this had happen is how fast Drift blinked and leaned back.

Confused, Drift let Ratchet’s hand go. He licked his lips, his cheeks full of energon which he sheepishly tried to swallow.

"Drift," Ratchet pulled his hand back to his side of the table, "are you sure you're alright? You're acting... different. I'm worried about you, you know. You know you can trust me to tell me anything if anything at all is bothering you right? We can go back to the medbay after this and I can run a few more diagnostic checks on you, if you're up to it." He really did want to run a few more tests on Drift, worried about his behavior.  Instead of pushing the issue, he just sat and watched Drift wipe his mouth, wanting him to decide for himself. If anything was truly bad, he figured Drift would come to him, or at least he hoped so.

"No I... I'm alright just a little more out of it than I thought." He tried to return to eating, significantly slower now. He didn’t make eye contact with Ratchet, already feeling his gaze spearing him. It was better to just finish the meal and allow Ratchet to walk with him back to his hab.

In the hall Ratchet stayed close to Drift’s side, giving him a reassuring smile every time Drift stole a glance at him. This sure had reminded him of old times, when Ratchet took care of him the first time they had met. He hadn't know much about him other than the fact Orion had pulled him from the gutters pretty much on the edge of death and brought him back. It was nice Ratchet had fought tooth and nail for him then and it was still nice now that Ratchet was around. It bothered him a bit he had no real way of expressing to the medic how much it meant to him but Ratchet seemed pretty content with some night drinking at Swerve’s and just Drift being around. Drift felt the same, enjoying Ratchet’s presence.

They stopped by Drift’s hab door, expecting to part ways there but Ratchet stepped in front of Drift.

"Do you mind if I take a look at your weld? You were picking at the bandage earlier and you peeled some of it off. Do you mind if I take a look? It should only take a few more minutes of your time. I just want to make sure you're healing nicely." He knew Drift would heal nicely; Drift was resilient and young, but just to put his mind at ease he wanted to look.  Plus, how could Drift deny him, he meant well and was always gentle with him when it came to serious matters like this.

"Uh. yeah sure." The hab door slid open and the two of them entered. Drift went right to his berth, sitting himself on the edge and waiting for Ratchet fish through his subspace for a clean set of bandages.

"Okay, let's see." Attentively, Ratchet peeled the sticky mesh patch off of the side of Drift’s head and set it down. "Mm-" Ratchet put his hand under Drift’s chin, lightly squeezing it and moving Drift’s head to the side so he could get a better view. The weld was healing nicely, though it seemed a little irritated around the edges, probably due to Drift picking at it and touching it. "The weld is healing nicely, as much as I had expected actually. Could be better though." Ratchet poked at it a bit; narrowing down tender spots based off how often Drift would squint and shift away from his touch to which Ratchet would coo. He smeared a bit of medical grade on his servo and spread it around the weld to continue to encourage regeneration before getting the new bandage and sticking it into place.

"Good as new?" Drift leaned back when Ratchet dropped his hands.

"Getting there." Ratchet gave Drift’s shoulder a fond pat and then gave it a light squeeze. "Drift, listen," Ratchet knelt down to get to his level, "I know I am going to sound like some old broken record but I really do need you to get as much rest as you can. We really did almost lose you and I don't want to see you exhausting yourself being up and around too early. Percy and I are worried about you and we just want the best for you, which is why I say you need to tell me if anything at all is bothering you. I know you're stubborn and a tough kid, but coming out of a surgery like you did on fire and pretending like everything is fine is just not normal. You know that by telling us if anything is wrong it won't make you a burden to us right? We're just here if you need us, and I want you to know that." All this was fine and nice, and Drift knew Ratchet meant well but he really was fine... he hoped.

"I'm alright Ratch, just really tired and just trying to get back into the swing of things. I just wake up dizzy and feeling like I am going to purge, but after we ate I felt better." And in truth, he did. His tank had stopped turning and but the throbbing inside of his head continued, maybe just a side effect of the surgery. "I'll rest, I promise, nothing much I can do like this anyway." He smiled and felt Ratchet squeeze his shoulder again.

"Alright, but you know where I am if you need me, and Perceptor is on call for you as well. If you get the chance and feel up to it after you rest some more, go give him a visit, it will brighten his day to see you up." Perceptor had worked night and day to help Ratchet restore every little last piece of Drift possible, ignoring recharge for hours in the hopes he could save Drift’s life.

Ratchet stood, leaned forwards and gave Drift a hug, patting his back and then leaving him alone.

He sat, just listening to the silence a while, sort of wishing Ratchet had stayed a little longer. Another part of him wanted do as Ratchet said and see Perceptor but if he had left and run into Ratchet in the hall he surely would be cross with him for not resting.

"Maybe just a call to Percy-" Pulling up his internal com, Drift tried to focus on connecting with Perceptor but the sudden high pitched ringing in his audio picked up. It picked up so fast he jumped up from the berth and grabbed at his head, hunching over into himself and shouting out in agony. God it hurt! Why was it this bad, how it could hurt this much?

"Stop!" Drift pleased, digging his servos into the sides of his finials as his head felt like it was splitting open. "Stop it!" His head jerked to the side, a violent tick, and then another that sent his head in the opposite direction. He snarled, staggering and falling to his knees. "St-AH!" He jerked so hard to one side his frame threw itself against his berth, then again to the floor as he couldn't control himself.

On his hands and knees, he curled in on himself, shouting into the floor until his spinal strut snapped straight and his screaming stopped. The ringing faded, the throbbing dulled to the point he was able to halt his frame up and onto his feet.

His head tilted back, optics flickering a deep red, any trace of his baby blue optics long gone. The fangs that often were well hidden in his mouth now jutted outward in a feral way, elongated. His lip curled and he growled, steam escaping his clenched denta.


	3. Chapter 3

Red optics flashing through cracked servos, Drift slid his hands down his face. Slowly he pulled them away, his vision foggy and full of little patches of static as he tried several times to reset the feed.

"What happened-" The shrill ringing in his audio was fading but still left his finials red hot and aching. His voice was muffled as he spoke to himself, and he threw out an arm to catch himself as the room felt like it was moving out from under his feet.

Falling hard on his side, he took down his nightstand with him. Books, papers, and energon cubes crashed to the floor, scattering and spilling all over the place as Drift lie on his back amongst the shattered stand.

Sitting himself up, he went to bring another hand to his face but paused, something wasn't right.

"What the slag-" He turned his hand in front of his face, wiggling his servos as he examined the armor on them. They were thinner, smaller even, and his claw tips had been filed down to flat fingertips.

He looked past his hand at his lower body and legs, his optics widening in absolute horror at what he saw. No longer were his bulky legs there, instead two bright white legs stuck out from under him. He shifted them to make sure they were his and to his dismay, they were.

He looked up and around, taking in the room from his view on the floor. There was nothing familiar about the place. It certainly didn't seem like the hab of a Decepticon ship, not his personal hab at the Decepticon base. None of the items around the room were his either, what the hell was this place? Where was he? Why?

"What the hell-" He tried to get up, finding it difficult as he was just now registering how different his body felt to him, how foreign it was. He stood on thin shaking legs, holding the side of his berth, whoever's berth, for support as he made his way to what he could only imagine was a wash room.

Staggering into the washroom, he caught the sink before tripping over his own feet and looked up into the mirror.

His own bright red optics shimmered at him through the glass, but a face not his own looked back at him.

"What's happening-" He reached up, touching his face all over, even pinching and pulling his cheeks to make sure this wasn't some sort of dream. His optics flicked upwards to notice the bandage on his head and moved his hand up to touch it, peeling it back to see the weld behind. He knew well enough it was a surgical weld, and when he touched the corner, pain shot through his head and right up his finials to burn red hot.

"Slag it!" His hand snapped away and he hunched over the sink, feeling sick suddenly. He smoothed the bandage back over his head, panting softly as he waited for the pain to subside. He looked down at the sink drain; he noticed his chest was bare white, no badge. Where was his Decepticon logo? What was all this? Why was his memory so foggy, why was he in this body? Was it some sick joke by Turmoil for disobeying an order? Or had he actually gotten hurt on the job and needed a full system repair? It doesn't make sense.

"This is Deadlock, can anybody hear me?" Speaking to his internal com, there was nothing but silence. "Can anybody hear me, this is Deadlock, second in command to Turmoil." After a full minute of silence, he cursed and swiped his arm across the sink’s top, knocking all the soaps off and sending them to the ground.

Rushing out into the main hab as fast as he could, Deadlock stood in the center of the room and started to look around a little more for anything that might tell him what was going on.

He started by tearing some books off a nearby bookshelf, flipping through them rapidly and throwing them on the floor when they provided nothing except useless drabble of meditation and spirituality. What the hell was all this crap? Where the hell were his blasters?

He tore the blankets from the berth, tore open the pillows, and went through every box he could find to come up with nothing until something in the corner of the room caught his attention.

Three swords, one much longer than the other two lay untouched in their sheaths.  The larger one hooked his attention, and he wasn't sure in a good way. As soon as his optic locked onto the unlit orb just above the hilt, is tank flipped and he felt uneasy, as if being watched.

He was glad something lit up on the floor and pulled his attention away from the blade as he found it difficult to look away on his own.

"What's this?" Stepping forwards and kneeling down, Deadlock picked up a data pad off the floor and stood. He growled, watching the Autobot logo spin slowly on the screen and pause when his servos touched it. "They did this to me?" He turned, looking at the messy hab as a whole again. It didn't look like a cell or a prison at all, so what the hell _was_ this place?

His head throbbed and he snarled as he tried to recall anything that might have happened that got him stuck here in the first place. His mind was blank and it enraged him, causing him to upturn a small table with a few candles on it.

He paused, vents flaring open as he heaved and panted, a small panic bubbling up in his intake. Had the Autobots captured him in battle at some point and dragged him away? Was this thing on the side of his head their attempt to reprogram him to get him to join them?

Like hell he would.

Heading for the hab door, he paused, expecting it to be locked but was pleased when it hissed and slid to the side. How foolish of them to have not locked him in.

Leaning just his head and his shoulders out of the hab, Deadlock expected to see guards in front of the door, but there were none, and in fact the hallway was completely empty. How convenient for him.

Stepping out, he let the door slide shut behind him while he examined the hallway. Several hab doors littered the walls, but no noises came from any of them. Not that he could pick up anyway with the dull ringing still in the back of his mind. Either they were all empty or it was late enough they everybody was recharging. Good, that would make it easier for him to steal a ship and get away from this place.

Heading to the right, Deadlock kept each step he took as quiet as possible, pausing when he thought he heard someone speaking, and continuing when the coast was clear.

As he moved, he took in every detail of the space he was exploring. It was odd, but there was something inside of him telling him he had been here before, and yet he didn't recognize a single thing.

He paused at a large window, cursing as he looked out over open space. All this time he had hoped he had still been on the ground in an Autobot base or something. It complicated things now that he knew he was on a ship considering he didn't recognize the star patterns out the window.

No matter, his mission now was to get a ship and go.

Heading down level after level, he had started to get frustrated that he wasn't going to be able to find the hanger, or at least an escape pod. He was about to lose hope when he rounded the corner and smirked at the larger sign by some sliding door that read _Hanger_.

Rushing to it, Deadlock paused and looked through the glass, expecting some guards to be in place, but again, nothing. It made a little more sense they would go unguarded since they were in space and perhaps since all bots on the ship where friendly, unless there were more like him. As of that moment, he didn't care, he just wanted out himself.

Moving through the doors, he rushed to the first ship he saw, oddly round with a funny design on it that could have resembled another bot. No matter, as long as it got him out of here he would take it.  

He got to the console, pressing a few buttons in an attempt to get it detached from the wall and moved over to the runway but an error sign popped up and a password log came up. Anger boiled in his chest as he punched in several random numbers, all coming up as failed logins.

"Slag it." His fist met the terminal and he looked up at the ship, his finials down as he made a bitter face at it. What the hell was he going to do now? Maybe take a hostage. Somebody on this blasted ship has to know how to get these ships down, and all he needed was one.

Heading back to the door, Deadlock moved himself back out into the hall. Taking note of the location so he could find it again after he brought back his hostage, he made his way through a few more halls.

"I'm telling you Skids," Deadlock's finials perked up and he looked around to see where the voice was coming from. It was just ahead of him, and he could hear footsteps from more than one bot.

Needing a place to hide, Deadlock looked all around. There were no narrows spaces for him to slide into, but a supply closet seemed to hold some promise.

Pulling the door open, he stepped inside and shut the door as quietly as possible and waited, seeing the shadows of the bots he heard now.

"You should come by and play pacman with me. It's really fun! And Pacman makes funny noises when you die. I may have stayed up all night last night playing it." Swerve laughed as the two of them shuffled by.

"Sure, we can play later." Deadlock watched through the slats on the door as the much larger blue mech slapped the red mini’s shoulder.

They kept talking, waking to the end of the hall and turning out of his sight but he stayed in the closet for a few minutes to make sure he was in the clear. Once out, he stood in the hall a moment and listened for anybody else before continuing his way.

He only made it one more level down before running into another large set of sliding doors that read _Lab_ on the plaque. As he looked through the small viewing window, his engines rumbled as he only saw one bot standing on the inside.

"Perfect." A scientist should be an easy snag, and it was easy to see the large scoop sitting on his shoulder. Scientist always made the easiest hostages. Most of them had no idea how to carry a gun let alone use one. This was going to be a piece of cake.

"Perfect." Licking his lips, Deadlock stepped in, keeping his optics locked on the red bot that had his back turned to him. Whatever he was working on, he was invested in it as he didn't seem to hear the lab doors hiss open.

Keeping low, Deadlock took cover behind several of the work benches when the scientist turned and started to work at a different table. When he finished and went back to the spot he was vulnerable, Deadlock advanced.

Like a predator stalking it's prey, Deadlock moved into the middle of the isle and dropped his finials down low. His optics swirled wider and he licked his lips in anticipation as the scientist came into reach. He would have to be quick, cover his mouth so he couldn't scream. Twisting one of his arms behind his back would also be good, keep him at his mercy while he could drag him down the hall.

Extending his hand, Deadlock spread his servos, ready to grab.

The dull ringing in the back of his mind suddenly screeched in his audio, sending spots of white across his vision field.

"ARH!" Doubling back in pain, he grabbed his head and wailed. He bumped a work table, sending tools flying and clattering all over the floor. "ENOUGH!" The ringing persisted, burning the back of his optics and making him drop to his knees in mercy. "NGN!"

"Drift?!" Perceptor jumped, watching Drift stagger back, hit the table, and fall. "Drift!" He rushed to him, dropping down and setting his hands on the samurai's shoulders only to be swiped away.

"STOP!" Deadlock stood up, one hand still firmly placed to his throbbing head as he tried to make his way to the lab doors. He had to get out, something was wrong. In a panic, Deadlock upturned one of the work benches to keep the scientist from following him too closely.

"Drift, wait!" Perceptor shouted, jumping over the table and rushing out into the hall to see it was empty. "Drift?!" He held his hands up to the sides of his mouth and shouted before taking off in a sprint down one hall. "Drift? Please, where are you? What's wrong? What happened?" He skated around a corner, stopping to catch his breath when he heard small whimpers coming from one of the supply closets.

Cautiously, Perceptor reached for the handle, turning it and letting the door wing open on its own.

"Drift?" He could see the familiar outline of Drift's frame hunched over on the corner, if he had to guess Drift had his forehead pressed into the corner.

Hand still on the side of his head, Deadlock snarled, optics flickering blue and red spastically as his internal processor was being overwhelmed. His head twitched to one side at random, and he dug his servos into the plating on his head, trying to quiet his mind.

Energon gushed from one of his nostrils, trailing down his lips and chin to drip on the floor between his legs. There was one more powerful head twitch and his optics faded from red to a cool blue.

The ringing faded down enough that he would focus. Tense servos that had left little indents on his head slowly slid down and he looked up at the wall, confused.

"Drift?" His finials perked up and he looked over his shoulder to see an incredibly worried Perceptor. Not only that, there was a hint of fear swelling behind his optics.

"Percy?" using the wall as a support, Drift stood himself up straight and turned to look at Perceptor. "What are you doing in my hab at this hour? I thought you left."

"Your hab?" Perceptor seemed just as confused. "Drift, this is the supply closet." He gestured to the room, and Drift looked around, now registering where he was.

"I was just in my hab-" The last thing he remembered in fact was Perceptor tucking him in and changing his bandage. How did he get here and not even recall any of it.

"No, you were just in the Lab. I didn't even hear you come in. I only noticed you when you cried out. You looked like you were in pain." Grabbing a small wash towel off the rack, Perceptor licked it and dabbed at Drift's nose. "A lot of pain, maybe I should take you to see Ratchet. I'm... really worried."

"I feel fine now. I have a small headache but I'm okay." He saw the doubtful look on Perceptor’s face as he continued to dab. "Really. Actually there is nothing more than I want right now than to just... lie down and sleep." His small headache was actually pounding so hard he thought his optics were going to pop right out of their sockets.

"I really think you should see Ratchet."

"I will, I will. I Promise." Reaching up and taking the hand Perceptor was using to clean his nose off, he kissed the palm and pressed it into his cheek. "I'm sorry if I scared you. Maybe I'm just sleepwalking or something." He didn't expect Perceptor to believe that and he sure didn't believe it himself but he didn't really have much else to go on. "Walk me back to my hab?"

"I insist." Stepping to the side, Perceptor let Drift walk out into the hall so he could close the closet’s door. "Come on." Setting his hand on the small of Drift's back, they walked together.

They passed the hanger, and for a moment Drift felt something in his tank twist.  He didn't have time to dwell on it as Perceptor pushed him along, eager to get him back to bed to rest.

"Here we are." Perceptor stopped in front of Drift's hab door and stepped in when it opened. "Oh my Primus." He stopped abruptly, Drift bumping into him which made Perceptor stagger forwards a step. "What happened in here?" The room was an utter disaster. Almost everything was on the floor, and Perceptor picked up his ped to look at what he stepped in, which happened to be some spilt energon. "Did you do this?" He turned and looked at Drift, that fear that was hidden escaping a bit in the tone of his voice.

"If I did, I don't remember doing it." Drift's finals drooped as he stood in the middle of his trashed room. "Why would I do this?"

Perceptor gathered up Drift's blankets and set them on his berth. He looked at the shredded pillows and just rubbed his face.

"I'm not sure but maybe I should spend the night. Or maybe you should just come and sleep in my hab. This... something isn't right here." Pacing, Perceptor only stopped when Drift set his hand down on his free shoulder.

"Percy it's okay. I'll clean it up, it's no big deal."

"But-" He paused, seeing Drift cock his head and give him a sweet smile. "Alright... but... in the morning I want you to ping me so I know you're alright. Understand?" Putting his hands on Drift's cheek, Perceptor stood up on the tips of his peds and kissed him. "My door is open to you if you have any more trouble tonight, okay?" He kissed Drift again after he nodded and left him to his mess.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -points and winks at anon- I got u

His eyes were closed, allowing the water to pelt his face as he stood under the warm spray. It streamed down his neck, chest, and pooled around the drain on the floor to vanish into the pipe work.

Slowly, Drift rolled his neck and let his head and finials sag, the water now drenching the back of his neck. He had hoped taking a nice hot shower would tame the throbbing behind his temple, but yet it persisted.

 Dimming his optics online, Drift stared down at the drain with an almost blank expression. He blinked almost lazily, watching the water swirl around his feet for what felt like an eternity.

Wincing when his head throbbed extra hard, Drift squeezed his optics shut and reached up to rub at his temple. It did little to sooth the ache, and when he opened his optics and stared down at the drain, he noticed something different.

The water had a strange tint of pink, which grew darker and darker the longer he stared at it. It swirled around his feet and down the drain, and when he realized it was energon he snapped to attention.

Pulling his hand away from his head, he looked at his pink stained servos.

"W-What?" He staggered back. Expecting his back to hit the shower wall, but nothing caught him, and when he looked up, he was surrounded by darkness.

How was this happening? Where was he? He was just in the shower and yet he didn't feel the water anymore, nor see anything that could tell him where he was.

The painful ringing picked up between his finials, causing him to hunk over and grab his head in agony. He could have sworn he screamed, but he couldn't hear himself over the ringing.

Something powerful erupted behind him, forcing him down onto his hands and knees as the heat scalded his back. He didn't have time to stand, as another powerful pulse pushed him another way and again heat scalded him.

He peeped his optics open, trying to see what was happening around him but there was nothing but darkness. It didn't make sense; he could hear and feel the explosions, why couldn't he see them?

He squeezed his optics shut for only a moment, hoping when he reopened them he could be back in the shower and this was just some sort of nightmare, but when he reopened them, he finally saw something.

It was him, or maybe it wasn't, but whatever it was it looked just like him. It stood a few feet in front of him, sword drawn, finials down in his usual attack stance. He was shouting, but Drift couldn't hear anything except the explosions around him.

His copy, which was running, dodged and swung at nothing in the open darkness. At least not until another explosion sounded and Drift watched his copy fly across the open space.

He watched his own body's armor shred and scatter all around, and then his frame come to a hard landing on the ground. It skidded and came to a harsh stop and lay still for a few seconds.

"Stop." Drift finally heard himself say, his voice echoing in the darkness. "Stop." He watched his body, twitching and gagging on its own energon. It turned its head to him, glitching optics locking onto his own, a single hand extending, only three fingers remaining on it.

"STOP!" Grabbing the sides of his head, Drift curled into himself, squeezing his optics shut one more time. Tears welled up at the bottom of his optics and burned, threatening to spill over if he didn't take control of himself.

When the heat faded, and the sound of the explosions vanished, Drift was left with nothing but the dull ringing inside of his own head.

He didn't want to open his optics, too afraid of what might be on the other side, but he wasn't sure he would ever escape what kind of hell this was if he didn't.

Slowly, he onlined them, blinking away the tears and looking down at what seemed to be a tiled floor. It looked familiar enough that he processed it as being the flooring inside of Ratchet's medical bay, and when he looked up he seemed to be in some sort of storage room.

A ragged sigh escaped his vents, relieved he was back and seemed to have wandered off into another closet. If he hadn't done it before he might have been really confused, but now he was just happy he was safe. He didn't even care how he had managed to do it, as long as he was back, he was okay.

Rubbing the sides of his head, Drift sighed as the ringing had dulled down and he made an attempt to stand on legs of jelly.

Bracing himself on some boxes, Drift took in another shaky breath. He took the time to look around for the door and to come up with some half ass explanation as to why he was in there if he happened to run into Ratchet.

Spotting the door, Drift moved for it, opening it and stepping into what looked like an endless hall. He turned back around to face the door he had just come through, his spark dropping into his tank when it was now nothing but a blank wall.

"No-" Drift whispered, touching the wall as if the door would reappear.

_We're losing him!_

Drift turned around, his finials perking as his audio registered a voice not his own.

_Hurry! We have to hurry!_

All the way at the end of the hall, there was a single doorway, illuminated with bright yellow light. He had no other doorways to go into, no other options for escape, only the bright yellow light.

His head pulsed, and he winced, taking a step towards the light. He wasn't sure he should, but what else was he to do. He didn't want to die in here, so he moved.

Step after step, he had expected the doorway to grow farther and farther from him, but he actually did managed to move closer to it. Each new step caused a new throb of pain to jolt through his head, making him wince and stagger. About halfway down the hall he used the wall as a support, as he felt like his head was going to pop.

_Please! Hurry! Hurry!_ _There's no time!_

Energon oozed from Drift’s right nostril, his frame struggling as it got closer and closer to the light. It felt like an invisible force was pushing him back, making him work twice as hard to walk and reach out for the door frame. He was so close, so _so_ close.

Yanking himself into the room, the bright light burned his optics, making him turn his head away and throw an arm up in an attempt to shield himself.

The light faded, and Drift lowered his arm, his optics rotating and locking onto the scene before him.

He could see himself again, lying on a medical berth, all sorts of tubes and wires littering his broken frame. Energon was caked all over his face, spurting from the side of his head were he had sustained the most damage. Above his head Ratchet stood, his hands buried into his head as he had Drift's brain module exposed.  To his side, Perceptor was frantically trying to patch his armor, tie off energon lines and stop whatever bleeding he could.

_Please Ratchet, you have to hurry! He's getting weaker!_

Drift watched Perceptor shouted at the doctor, who was frantically working on the damaged module. Coolant was beaded on his forehead, but his focus was never broken, welding and patching as much as he could.

_I know_.

Ratchet's voice echoed, calm and collected as always, but his optics were drowning with worry. He cursed several times when Drift's vitals wobbled and threatened to flat line. Already Drift's frame had a slight gray tinge to it as his life force flickered, struggling to stay lit.

_Please Drift, just hold on! Just a little longer! You have to be strong for us! I'm not going to let you die, you're not leaving us! I won't let you!_

Perceptor pleaded, one of his hands reaching down and taking one of Drift's damaged ones.

"Percy-" Tank flopping as he watched on, Drift stepped forwards. "I'm right here, Percy. I'm here." He reached out in an attempt to touch Perceptor’s arm, but as if he was a hologram, his hand passed right through the worried scientist. "W-what?" Drift looked at his hand, and then tried to touch Perceptor again, hailing the same result. It wasn't any different when he tried to touch Ratchet, but he regretted it when he caught a glimpse of how bad his head injury really was.        

Energon was pooled around his brain module, and part of it had been scalded and dented from the blast. Part of his finials were missing, torn off from the blast to expose the part of his inner frame that had taken the most damage.

What if he was already dead, and all of this was just some twisted purgatory. What if he was watching himself dying right now and would have to suffer seeing it for as long as he was stuck in here. Would he have to watch Percy mourn him? He wasn't sure he could watch him frantically begging Ratchet to keep working for much longer. He sounded desperate and hurt, afraid to lose him.

"This can't be real-" Drift stepped back, the ringing in his head starting to increase in volume again. "This can't be real." He watched Perceptor slap his hands over a spurting wound. "No no no no no-" Covering the sides of his head with his hands, Drift staggered back, tripping over his own feet and crashing down hard onto his back.

Snapping his optics open, Drift looked around in a frantic manner, expecting to be in some sort of new hellish place but finding himself back in his shower. He was sitting, arms splayed against the walls as he must have fallen and tried to catch himself.

The water was no longer warm as it pelted his chest; instead it was lukewarm, suggesting he had been in there a lot longer than he should have been.

Getting up as quickly as his body would allow, Drift jumped from the shower and rushed out into his hab, then out into the main hall of the Lost Light. He looked back and forth, seeing other hab doors and hearing muffled laughter from the bots that lived around him.

Leaning back into his hab and letting the door slide shut in front of him, Drift rubbed his face. What the hell was all that? Had he somehow managed to fall asleep standing up? Was he even capable of doing such a thing?

Heading back to the washroom and turning off the shower, Drift turned to the sink and turned it on.

He cupped his hands under the cool water, just _feeling_ it for a while before gathering some up and splashing in into his face. He repeated it two more times before looking up at himself in the mirror.

Optics sunken into the back of his head, he was exhausted. Sleep hadn't come easy, nor would it after this. Nothing seemed to be coming easy lately, and perhaps he should have talked to someone about it.

Everybody was worried about him enough; there was no need to worry them with his nightmares. What he really needed was to get out of this hab for a while, talk to some of the others, and try to get back into the swing of things. Perhaps some socialization would do him good, get his mind off things. In fact, maybe some meditation in the dojo would do him even better. If he was up to it and felt better later, maybe some sword practice would be good too. Some simple sword maneuvers wouldn't strain his body, so maybe after an hour of meditation, he could do that.

Wiping down his face, Drift headed back out into his hab and sat on the edge of his berth. He reached down under it and pulled out a half filled bottle of fine Enjex. Flipping the cap off, Drift took a long swig and scrunched his nose up as the flavor hit his glossa. He shook his head and winced, allowing it to burn his intake before capping and sliding the bottle back under the berth.

Just a little something to help dull his nerves.

* * *

 

 

An hour of meditation seemed to hail little results. Still his head pounded, and still he tried to make sense of what had happened to him earlier in the morning. Over and over he had tried to convince himself it was just some cruel dream he couldn't wake himself from, and for a while it would calm him. Though there was a hint of panic that he had to constantly bury down, fearful that it may have been more than just some dream.

Standing in the middle of the dojo, Drift took in a deep breath and squeezed the hilt of his sword. He swung it in wide arcs, slow and steady, focusing on the next swing and then the one to follow after that.

He moved his feet fluidly, almost as if he was dancing, whirling around and swinging some more until he completed the formation and moved right on to the next.

As he spun, swinging his sword in a large arc, it came to an abrupt halt in inch from Rodimus' face.

"How are you feeling?"

"You shouldn't sneak in here when I am training. I'm fine." Drift pulled his sword away and took a few steps back to give himself more space. He just sighed and picked back up where he was.  

"I figured you would have heard me come in when the doors opened. You normally do anyway. It's not like I snuck in." Crossing his arms and popping his hip out, Rodimus shrugged. "Are you sure you're okay?" The Prime watched Drift pause, then turn back and look at him. He could see Drift's jaw clench as if he wanted to say something, but instead he looked down.

"Yeah, just couldn't stand being cooped up anymore. Ratchet insisted I rest, but sitting in my hab-" Drift paused, rubbing the finial opposite of his weld. "It's just making me stir crazy, I guess."

There was a small silence between the two of them before Rodimus reached up and rubbed his own chin.

"Are you up to spar? Nothing too serious, just something to get the energon flowing. You know, help you loosen up." Rodimus smirked when he saw Drift's finials perk up. "Loser buys drinks later tonight, how's that?" He was aware of Drift's wounds, but was wise enough to not go too hard on him or aim for those spots in particular if Drift had accepted his offer.

Hesitant, Drift rubbed the back of his neck. His head still throbbed but it wasn't too bad, he could probably withstand at least one round with Rodimus.

"Uh, yeah that actually sounds pretty good." Unclipping his scarab, Drift set his sword aside and took his place across from the Prime. Together they stood about three feet apart, fists raised and ready.

"Ready?" Rodimus asked, bouncing from foot to foot with anticipation.

"Get ready to buy." Throwing the first fist, Rodimus blocked it and twirled around Drift. Together they threw softened blows, hitting one another on the shoulders, chest, and sides. The punches were enough to ache, but not hurt.

Outside of the room, Ratchet watched through the glass window as the two younger mechs danced around one another.

He had his arms crossed, a disapproving look sculpted onto his face as he watched the younger mechs dance around one another. Their soft laughter didn't make him feel any better about the fact Drift was straining himself before he was fully healed. Sure he could walk around and do things, but this was just too soon.

He considered bursting in and dragging Drift out by his finial, but instead he watched on, closely examining the samurai from afar. He hoped one of them would noticed him watching and quit the horseplay, but they just kept going.

Back inside of the room, Drift dodged another punch. He laughed and made an attempt to dodge the next fist, but something made him flinch.

Head ticking to the side, Drift winced and snarled into the air. He struggled to dodge Rodimus, feeling the Prime's fist graze his chin.  Another tick and Drift's expression changed from pained to feral.

Snapping his optics open, Drift snarled and grabbed Rodimus' arm, trapping it under his armpit and using his free fist to hammer into Rodimus' stomach.

"Dri-" Rodimus sputtered between punches, trying to yank his arm back. "Easy! We are supposed to go ea-" He didn't have time to finish as his arm was released and he fell back without warning.

He tried to catch himself, though it was sloppy and Drift's fist made contact with his nose before he even hit the ground.

"D-Drift." Falling hard on his side, Rodimus looked up with blurry optics, seeing Drift towering over him with a look he had never seen before. Almost as if possessed by someone else, he had a twisted smile on his face. His glossa flicked out, rubbing over his fangs as if he was some sort of starving predator waiting to strike the final blow.

He shot his fist down, making contact with the Prime’s face, once, twice, three times. Energon gushed from Rodimus' nose, speckling the floor as his head jerked back. He kept raising his hands in a failed attempt to protect himself, but Drift just beat him down through them.

"Stop it!" Ratchet snapped, holding Drift’s arm firmly with his own. "He's had enough!" Struggling to restrain Drift, Ratchet felt the younger break free of his hold and whirl around in front of him.

It happened too fast, and he barely avoided the full impact of Drift's fist but the majority of it split his lip and knocked him back on his aft.

Head ticking to the right, Drift winced and slapped a hand over the side of his head. One optic squinted and he hissed, struggling to get control of the pain.

"Tsk!" He squeezed his optics shut, baring his denta as he waited for the ringing to subside. Like always, it took a few minutes, and when he opened his optics, he was confused about his surroundings.

Before him, Ratchet us rubbing his jaw, a small stream of energon running from his lip down his chin.

Behind him, he saw Rodimus on his back, abdominal plating dented and bruised. His face was already swelling and bloodied.

What happened? Why are they hurt?

“R-Ratch?” His voice shook as he felt something terrible swelling inside of him. 

Wincing again, Drift looked at his hands, optics widening in horror as they were stained with energon not his own. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you had lost hope I was gonna update this... I bring you salvation

He sat there with his hands in his lap, picking anxiously at his fingertips. More than once he found himself pulling his fingers so hard they would creak in their sockets, threatening to pop loose. Perhaps they would have if Ratchet hadn't pulled his hands apart to get him to stop.

"Look up." Ratchet's voice wasn't angry but had a flatness to it that made Drift's spark flip flop behind his chestplate. "Look over my shoulder." Drift obeyed without fuss, at this point he would have loved to look anywhere except directly at Ratchet.

Flashing a small light into Drift's left optic, he moved to the right and waited for it to respond to the light by rotating and shrinking.

"You don't remember anything?" Three fingers touched lightly under Drift's chin, coaxing him to tilt his head up to the side before Ratchet nudged him slightly to the left to get a look at the weld on his head.

The wound was irritated as expected, but healing. Despite both of Drift's finials being down, one was slightly higher than the other, the swelling keeping it from sagging all the way. Nothing a few more treatments of medical grade couldn't bring down.

Turning his back towards Drift to pick up a jar of medical grade, Ratchet unscrewed the top and dipped his fingers inside.

"No, I don't... I don't remember anything. I just-" When Ratchet turned back and around and their optic's met, Drift trailed off. He blinked and looked away to the corner of the room as quickly as he could, even if Ratchet's expression was soft. "I remember Rodimus... and... I remember us just messing around and then that's it. I don't-" Head throbbing, Drift brought his hand up to try and sooth the ache but Ratchet snagged his hand.

"Don't touch it," His grip was firm but only for a moment before he let go, "The weld is irritated, probably due to stress. I know it's not easy, but you need rest. _Berth_ rest. I know walking around seems like an easy task but the trauma you suffered needs _time_ to heal. As much as you want to get up and wander because you _can_ doesn't mean you _should._ " Pressing his medical grade soaked fingers against the weld, Ratchet smeared it across the line, ignoring Drift's hiss of discomfort.

"I know but-" He bit back his words, knowing it was fruitless to argue with Ratchet. "Is Rodimus alright?" There was a small chuckle from Ratchet as he rubbed the tip of Drift's finial, trying to sooth the ache from the gel.

"You cracked him pretty good a few times, but he's had worse. If anything his ego is a bit bruised and his nose was a bit bent out of shape, but he's fine. Nothing I can't bend back into shape, besides, he was more worried about you." Sure the sucker punch overwhelmed the hot rod, but when the smoke had cleared and Drift had been escorted out, Rodimus as bloodied as he was wouldn't stop asking how Drift was. "Everything is fine, just a bad day." Stepping back and putting his hands on his hips, Ratchet sighed. "Perceptor and I still need to run a few more tests on your new circuitry, maybe a line is loose and just needs to be adjusted." That had been the best case scenario as something that simple could be fixed in a few minutes. "Stay here, I'm going to talk to Perceptor." There was a small nod and Drift remained on the table while Ratchet walked out of the room and into the main lobby.

Perking one final up, Drift listened to Ratchet's foot steps before he could hear the faint whispers of Ratchet's husky voice. It had been hard to hear, but Drift cocked his head to the side, one final up at attention and he could pick up Perceptor's small voice.

"How is he?" Perceptor blurted out the moment he saw Ratchet, his voice laced with worry. "Does he know where he is, who he is?"

"Yes, yes, Percy he's coherent." Ratchet spoke in a low tone. "Though what triggers that sudden outburst, I'm not sure." Rubbing under his chin, Ratchet tried to recall the events prior. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary, Drift just seemed to wander from his own mind. "I had thoughts he might experience a bit of dissociation from the procedure, but I didn't think like this." There was that, possible sleep loss, irritation, confusion, and lack of energy, but Ratchet had anticipated all of those, but not at this level.       

"Do you think we woke him up from stasis too early? I mean-" Perceptor shook his head, "his body has healed but the brain module is a delicate piece, it's not... it's not replaced or easily fixed. It _needs_ time to heal without having to worry about other bodily functions. Transforming, sparring, _anything_. It is probably putting an unimaginable amount of strain on the module."

"What do you suggest then?" Rubbing at the back of his neck, Ratchet watched Perceprot's gaze shift. "Putting him back into stasis?" He knew Perceptor didn't want to say it.

"Just for a few more weeks... maybe a month at most, as least until we can get a new diagnostic on his body. Something... something is _wrong_ with him. I don't know what but... something is just _wrong_. It's scaring me."

The sound of a metal tray clattering to the floor caught both Ratchet and Perceptor's attention. Together they looked up towards Drift's room to see him stalking out of it. His finials were down, this time in frustration as he shoved past both Ratchet and Perceptor.

"Drift? Drift, wait!" Catching Drift by the forearm, Perceptor was a bit taken aback when Drift wrenched himself free. "Drift!" Looking back at Ratchet, Perceptor frowned as he followed the wounded mech. "Drift please!"

"Leave me alone!" Drift snarled, his nose scrunched up and his upper lip curled back to reveal his fangs. He quickened his pace but Perceptor was quick to tail him around the corner.

"Drift, please just try to understand! We're trying to help you! You're hurt, please, Drift I-" Cut off the moment Drift rounded another corner and slipped into his hab, he slammed the door shut in Perceptor's face. "Drift." Putting his hands against the door, Perceptor sighed. "Everybody is worried about you. We're just trying to help." There was no noise from inside of the hab, and oddly enough the lock to the door never engaged. " _I'm_ worried about you."

Silence.

Holding his hand over the keypad, Perceptor curled and uncurled his fingers a few times before entering the code. Immediate the door slid open and he was met with darkness.

"Drift?" Stepping inside and letting the door his shut behind him to give them a bit of privacy, Perceptor moved towards the berth where a big mass was slumped. Even in the low light he could make out the two points of Drift's finials, and the soft glow of his optics nearly dimmed offline.

"I want to be alone." Voice chalky, Drift shifted. His back was to the scientist and as Perceptor walked closer to him he sank his head lower. "Percy please-" The berth shifted behind him and he glanced over his shoulder to see Perceptor sitting down by his side.

"Not tonight." Taking in a deep breath, Perceptor held it in for a few seconds and then allowed his vents to pop open and release the warm gust of air. "The stasis thing isn't permanent, just a little while longer to allow you to heal. We will wake you up again once the readings are normal it's nothing to be upset-" Perceptor paused as Drift turned around to face him, his optics brightening.

"It's not about the _stasis_!" He snarled and then rubbed his face furiously.

"Then what is it? Why are you so upset?" Reaching out and taking Drift's hands into his own, Perceptor gently pulled them away from his face. Releasing them, he placed his hands on Drift's cheeks instead, cupping them affectionately and running his thumbs along his cheekbones.

Head sagging into the loving touch, Drift's optics dimmed nearly offline and he just shook his head. Reaching up with one hand, he pressed one of Perceptor's hands harder into his cheek.

"It's me." Turning his head in Perceptor’s grasp, Drift kissed his palm, then a second time before nuzzling his lips into the metal.

"You?"

"I'm scaring you." His spark ached and he hid his face into Perceptor's palms the best he could. "I'm scaring the one person... I lo-" A knot formed in his intake and he just continued shaking his head until he felt himself being drawn in.

"Drift, that's not what I... I didn't mean it like that." Pulling the samurai against his frame, Perceptor allowed Drift to tuck his head against the open space between his neck and shoulder. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm just worried about you. I'm scared that... you're still suffering and I don't know how to help you." At least not yet, Perceptor wasn't one to give up. Nothing a little time and patience couldn't solve.

Stroking the back of Drift's head soothingly, they rocked gently back and forth together. The silence had been oddly comforting, and the feeling of Drift soft breaths against Perceptor's neck felt good.

Dry lips pressed themselves against a neck cable to leave a weary kiss, and then Drift licked his lips. A second kiss, a little more present this time.

Nuzzling the side of Drift's head, Perceptor just kept rocking, feeling Drift kiss about and sigh contently. The mouthing felt good, and Perceptor's neck cables tensed briefly when Drift nipped one.

His hands that had grasped Perceptor's not long before had dropped down to rub at the front of the scientist's bulky chest guard. Tracing delicate fingers over the glass, Drift traced every seam he could find.

Every so often Perceptor would reciprocate with a fond kiss to his jagged cheek. Pressing his fingers into Drift's spinal strut, he rubbed up and down as high and low as he could until he felt Drift jerk against him. His head trembled and seemed to twitch to one side before settling back to its regular position.

His head seemed to twitch in one direction and his finials jumped in place. His lips left Perceptor's neck in that brief moment but his fingers suddenly dig into a transformation seam along Perceptor's hips.  

"Drift?" Perceptor said as Drift's idle hands pushed him down towards the berth. "Drift wait-" Those gentle lips pressed harshly back into his neck, forcing Perceptor to jerk his head to the side while Drift nipped against him. "Drift, we can't-" Drift's hands clawed at Perceptor's mid section tugging at the seams and working their way lower and lower.

Head ticking to the side again, Drift's frame let out a rumble, almost like a deep purr.

"Open your panel." Biting into a sensitive cable, Perceptor hissed in pain. There was something different about Drift's voice. It seemed deeper than his usual vocal tone. "Open it." He said again, his hand squeezing at Perceptor's interfacing array almost painfully.

"Drift, you're... you're crushing me." Pinned under Drift's weight, Perceptor felt his vents struggling to pop open. He shifted a bit, but Drift seemed to shift with him, as if he wanted him pinned and at his mercy. "Drift." Voice firm Perceptor struggled.

"Do it _Autobot_." Lifting his head, Drift's optics flickered red as he blinked. There was a soft snap and click between his own legs as his spike jutted out from his own array.

"Enough!" With the back of his hand, Perceptor cracked Drift across the face, causing the mech to teeter backwards and land on his aft.

Panting and sitting himself up, Perceptor blinked as he focused on Drift who was sitting with one hand pressed to his swelling cheek. His optics were wide and a vivid blue, but the expression on his face is what made Perceptor's spark sink.

"What was that for?!" Drift's voice cracked.

Utterly confused, perhaps shock as to what had happened. He looked down at his spike, and then back up at Perceptor who was rubbing the seams he had dug his fingers into a bit too harshly.

"Percy I-" He couldn't recall his spike back into his panel fast enough. "I don't- I don't-" Pushing himself off of the berth and getting as far away from Perceptor as possible, Drift huddled in the corner. "Leave. Please just leave. Get as far away from me... as possible. I don't know... I don't know what's happening. Just go. Please. Just leave."

"Drift-" Scooting himself off of the berth, Perceptor moved towards the corner. Extending a hand out towards the trembling mech, he jumped when Drift whirled around and slapped his hand away.

"I SAID GET OUT!" He was sure to flash his fangs again, and this time it had Perceptor backing up. "GO!" He roared and grabbed the coffee table in the center of the room, upturning it and sending everything that had been on it flying across the small space. "GO!" He howled as Perceptor left the room, leaving him to upturn everything he could get his hands on.

 

* * *

 

From across the table Ratchet watched Perceptor pick at the top of his energon glass. For the past two hours he hadn't even taken a sip but instead just stared at the liquid.

"Didn't go well I assume?" Taking a big swig of his own drink, Ratchet leaned back into the booth. "The kid, _tsk_ , never was a compliant patient."

"It's not that." Perceptor spoke up and squeezed his glass. Having Drawn Ratchet's attention away from Ten stacking glasses on the counter, the CMO tilted his head in wonder.

"What do you mean?"

"There is something inside of him that I think he is desperately trying to fight against. Something that just consumes him the moment his guard is down. It just... shifts his mood so quickly, and he's like a whole other person."

"Does he recognize you?"

"I don't think so." They both knew how dangerous that could be. If Drift had an episode and felt cornered what would stop him from attacking someone, even if they meant well.

"I think stasis is really our only option. It's a better alternative than let whatever is doing this continue without proper supervision. I just don't understand what we missed; I made sure none of the wires would cross. Maybe the circuits were overloaded." Shrugging, Ratchet sighed, there was nothing they could do until Drift was back safely in stasis.

"I slapped him." Perceptor's head bowed and he slid his drink closer to his chest as if to seek comfort from it. "I slapped him and the _look_ on his face-" He had known Drift for a long time, but never in all those years had he seen Drift ever give him a look like that. 


End file.
